


A Little Help

by Ophelia_Tagloff



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Tagloff/pseuds/Ophelia_Tagloff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a journalist interviewing Tom at TIFF. You drop by his hotel room to return something he dropped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collaborative one shot written with Tumblr user slowly-intimately-smutty.

You’re an arts & entertainment journalist and you’ve just interviewed Tom in a quiet corner of the darkened, cozy lounge of the hotel where you’re both staying in Toronto, during this year’s TIFF…

 

He’s there to promote both High Rise and Crimson Peak, and he eagerly answered every one of your questions with passion and intensity. By the end of your meeting, it had evolved from a typical industry Q&A into an exciting tete-a-tete between the two of you. And on his part, a very flirty one. 

After he’d finished his drink and returned to his suite, you started to gather your things and noticed he’d accidentally dropped two film premiere passes on the floor under his chair, for the movie he’d told you he was most excited about seeing at the festival this year. You scooped them up and headed upstairs to return them to him. You knew where his room was, as you’d met him at the door of his suite previous to your meeting and then had adjourned to the lounge for your interview. 

You knocked softly on his door and to your surprise it opened slightly, as it hadn’t been shut, but ajar. He couldn’t have been back here for more than 5 minutes already, but you were hesitant to just walk in. You called his name quietly. ”Tom?” 

Nothing. You opened the door a bit more, enough to gingerly step through it and stand just inside it, in the dimly lit entryway. ”Mr. Hiddleston? Uh, Tom?” you called again, a little bit louder this time. ”You forgot your passes…” you continued, and then your eye caught a shaft of soft light glowing from around the corner. You heard the shifting of a body on soft leathered upholstery.

You swallowed and took several steps toward the light, and the sound…

You crept around the corner, your fingers brushing a light trail along the wall. Your brow softly furrowed, you felt the impulse to turn back, perhaps to leave the passes in an envelope at the front desk.

A soft panting sound met your ears. Then quiet grunting and moaning. My god, has he got a woman here? He just left you minutes ago, when his gaze upon you continuously shifted from playful to challenging to downright predatory.

You worried your bottom lip with your teeth and looked across the small foyer at the demi-lune that stood along the wall.

Maybe, if i just tiptoe and leave the passes there.

A deeper throaty moan rumbled from behind you as you stared hard at the table. You were risking being found out. You hadn’t seen anything, yes. But walking to that side if the entryway would put you in the sight line of Tom and his lover.

Damn it, you thought.

You heard Tom’s panting give way to a feral grunt.

Okay I’ve got to get out of here. Now.

With the fingertips of one hand still anchored on the wall you were leaning against, you reached over to slide the passages onto the small table. The hung halfway off and you leaned forward at the waist to nudge them all the way on with your fingers. Holding your breath and squeezing your eyes shut, you willed the two lovers to be so engrossed in one another that they didn’t see you.

"Oh, fuck!" Toms exasperated voice caused your eyes to snap open. You whipped your head toward him, your quick mind already spinning to come up with a way to explain.

You weren’t at all prepared for what you saw, sprawled out on the couch, which would have seemed entirely too small under normal circumstances. It took you a moment to really see what you were looking at: Tom spread-legged, his trim hips rolling, thrusting his cock into his twisting palm. His head lolled back over the back of the sofa, you had clear view of his neck - veined with Adam’s Apple that seemed pressed tight under the skin. His white dress shirt was open and baring the toned musculature of his chest, which now hitched and rolled in the most sensual way as he brought his a loose fist up and down his shaft, never missing the twist at the tip.

You saw him start to raise his head and your reflexes took charge. You pressed yourself up against the wall so you couldn’t be seen by him. Looking at the door to the suite, you began to inch your way out to the relative safety of the hallway, when your eyes went to the large mirror above the curved table. The mirror that was so perfectly angled, you could see Tom, his mouth slack, his eyes heavy-lidded with lust. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose.

Every professional, rational thought was screaming for you to get out of there, but all your baser feminine impulses were transfixed by the movement is his arm - up to the shoulder, he was working himself so hard - and the way his face contorted in lust. First his head back, gulping. Next lifting his head again, brows knitted together in need, pink tongue wetting his parched lips.

I really should go….

…..But just another moment.

In hindsight, it turned out to be a moment too long when belatedly you became aware that if you could see him in the mirrors angle, he could likely see you….

You stood rigid, petrified that he would open his half-lidded eyes and catch your transfixed stare. Still, you made no further move toward the suite door, away from the perfect position you held in watching the sculpted muscles and sinewy tendons of his forearm flex and relax as he stroked his rigid cock from base to head, his palm pressing his hilt and sweeping to the tip, elegant fingers drawing along the vein and then circling the head, first droplets of his fluid moistening his fingers as he twisted them back down his shaft.

You felt your body soften against the wall behind you, your core warming and twitching at the splendid sight of this beautiful man bringing himself to the brink. You closed your eyes and exhaled as quietly as you could, bringing your hands to the hem of your short skirt, curling your fingers underneath the edges of the tailored fabric, lifting it to the edges of your hips. As you moved your right hand toward the wettened silk of your panties, you heard him emit a raspy growl. And then, he said your name…

Your eyes darted to Tom’s face in the mirror, his features were still twisted in an expression of pained passion.

"Oh, Fuck, darling, your mouth," he muttered tightly.

It took you a minute, it really did, to make the connection. This gorgeous man splayed out on the leather couch, tortured in pleasure, was imagining you. Your mouth, to be precise.

Dozens of possible scenarios raced through your brain: Stripping down to your bra and panties and sauntering up to him. Your earlier plan of bringing yourself off fast and quiet while you enjoyed a little casual voyeurism. Then there was always the responsible choice of walking out the door and pretending that this never happened.

But you knew that was out of the question. 

In the end you decided to see if you could force his hand.

You straightened your skirt and smoothed your hair in the mirror, then clearing your throat, you gave a sharp rap on the wall and called out to him a little too loudly. You gripped the passes in your fingers once more.

"Tom? It’s me. Your door was ajar. I’m coming …"

You stopped short at the end of the hallway, hoping that your act was enough to fool this actor’s actor. 

He cursed quietly and grabbed a throw pillow to cover himself.

"God, I’m so sorry," you breathed, your eyes locked on the throw pillow as if you could see what was underneath it. 

"No. Please. I’m sorry. Um.. did you need something, love?" He had the decency to blush, pink creeping up his neck and coloring his already flushed cheeks further.

You allowed your gaze to rest on his strong thighs.

"Uh.. you left these. They must have fallen out of your jacket." You held the passes out to him.

"Oh. You can put them on the table. Thanks." he nodded toward the coffee table in front of the sofa.

You bent to place them on the table, hoping that he would allow his eyes to roam over your cleavage. You weren’t going to attempt to meet his gaze, but curiosity or the desire to tease him just a bit won out and you lifted your head to see, yes, his eyes were riveted to the soft dark valley between your breasts. 

"Listen, I’m sorry if I interrupted something," you gave a pointed look at the pillow on his lap.

"It’s not your fault," he brought one long-fingered hand up to rub his eyes in embarrassment, somehow still smiling, almost laughing at the awkwardness of it all, "God, I feel like such a tit. I’m sorry you had to see that, darling."

You smiled along with him, “It’s fine, Tom. Besides, I’m not.”

He dropped his hand to look at you, hitching up one eyebrow, but staying silent.

You slowly dropped to your knees between his thighs - pencil skirt, heels and all - and slid your palms up the inside of his spread legs slowly.

He licked his lips and you saw the delicious heave of his muscles as they tightened in prospect of your fingers moving higher.

"Is this alright?" you whispered.

"Yes," he breathed back just in time for your hands to reach under the pillow and thread through the nest of dark curls …

Not quite yet you told yourself as your hands grazed across his lap, just brushing against the tip of his cock before teasing away from it. You splayed both hands just below his narrow hips, curving your fingers around to graze the top of his ass, your thumbs in front drawing down the sensitive sliver of skin where thigh meets pelvis.

In your daring, already encouraged by his eager compliance to let you join his private play, you looked him in the eyes and said, “so i heard you say something about my mouth.” A sharp intake of breath as he watched you drop your eyes back to his lap, his right hand resting on the top of his thigh. You reached for it and brought it back to the base of his cock, his fingers instinctively wrapping around it. He squeezed as you lowered your wet lips to the head, parting your mouth just slightly to draw it between your lips, pulling it inside with hot breath and slick tongue. He let his hand drop away again but you guided it right back, taking your mouth off him just long enough to tell him what you wanted, to convince him it was what he wanted.

"I don’t want to interrupt you," you began, your hand covering his as you moved it up and down his shaft, from base to head and back again, your palms in perfect symphony. "I want to help you. So will you tell what your hand and your cock were just wanting to do to my mouth?" Both of his eyebrows were knitted now on furrowed brow, and he moaned as you dropped your lips back onto his cock, teasing only the head again but relaxing your throat in anticipation. You felt him twitch hard and he raised his hips, his dick dipping deeper as his fist worked it slowly in and out of your mouth. 

"Yes, I’ll tell you," he answered, almost in a hiss. He reached his free hand behind your head and fisted his fingers in your hair, pulling your lips off his cock again. He held your head still and his blue-eyed stare bore intensely into your own. "I want my cock deep inside that gorgeous mouth of yours, darling. I couldn’t stop imagining it during our interview." 

"And?" you answered. You literally felt him holding back the words for what he truly wanted.

His fingers tightened at the nape of your neck. He inhaled, baring teeth.

"I want to fuck your mouth like a cunt…"

It was the way he said it that made your entire body erupt in gooseflesh, before finally feeling the heat settle in your lower half. The pulsing of your clit couldn’t be ignored as he looked down at you, his jaw clenched. He was obviously still restraining some part of himself. But there was something else in his tone that was echoed in his eyes. Something soft. Not love - for god’s sake you just met - but want.

You didn’t answer him, not with any words. You watched him from under your eyelashes as he stroked his shaft. You brought your fleshy lower lip up to the sensitive loose skin beneath his tip, the natural motion of his movement causing his cock to bounce against your slack mouth.

You peeked your pink tongue out to flick the hard flesh, then brought it straight up, sliding the smooth underside over his tip, toying with the translucent pearl of liquid there before closing your mouth over his slit and flicking, sucking hard, and lightly flicking again.

His fingers still tangled in the hair at your nape flexed. Gripping you tightly, then relaxing. His hips arched into his fist and in turn the head of his cock pushed past the tight seal of your lips, almost to the fleshy ridge.

You wrapped your lips over your teeth and lowered your warm mouth onto him, sliding over the highly tender flesh normally hidden by his foreskin, lower still, the tip of your tongue teasing the taut cuff of skin, almost slipping just under it.

"Fucking Christ," he groaned, his fingers tangling up in your hair twisting almost painfully. 

His fingers kept at their work, now lightly bumping against your chin, but then you hollowed your cheeks and brought your mouth up to his ridge again, sucking him so tightly against your wet tongue that he snarled. You didn’t let him catch his breath as you slid back down to the seam where you had played earlier, the tightened and rose up once more.

His fist abandoned his shaft and joined his other hand in your hair and he bucked into your mouth. You gave a choked moan and gripped his hips, your nails marking him as you tried to pull him into you. 

"Jesus, yes," he breathed as he arched up into you again, more sure this time, finding his rhythm as he slid against your lips so easily, as wet as your mouth had made him.

Each thrust was more purposeful, yet somehow more reckless, as he began to lose himself to the sensation. You raised your glance to watch him, all rippling, tense muscle - grinding and heaving - sweat just beginning to mat down the light patch of hair on his chest. His mouth was slack, though the veins on his neck stood prominent from effort, his eyes never leaving the place where your mouth met his cock as you took him in again and again.

His thrusts grew more forceful and he grabbed you hard by the hair as he bumped the back of your throat….

Each pump of his cock sliding between your lips and over the soft, slippery bed of your tongue became more aggressive than the last, his hips now raising him from the supple leather couch entirely to press his pelvis as close to his face as he could possibly get it. His breaths deepened, a low vibrating sound quickening into gasping exhalations as they escaped the perfect circle of his wide open mouth.

He loosened his grip on your hair as he continued to fuck your face, the girth and length of him so hard now it needed no support other than your sucking cheeks and the pull of your throat. You felt his thighs begin to tremble underneath you and he moaned, “Fuck, I’m so close,” and in response you wrapped both hands around the base of his cock and opened your throat to swallow him completely, more deeply, tighter than you’d been allowing him in yet, when he abruptly pulled your face from him, the thickness of him leaving your mouth with a wet pop.

You husked a breath and roughly dragged the back of your hand across your lips, his pearly fluid trailing over your knuckles smoothing on the top of your wrist. Wild-eyed, you looked up at him from the space between his strong thighs which you still occupied and bent your lips to lick his slick sweetness from your skin, his top lip curling and twitching as he watched you do it.

"Was that all the help you needed from me, Tom?" you asked him, almost pouting between the breaths you took, your throat relaxing back to a state that was no longer accommodating the hammering hardness of his brutal erection. Your eyes trained back to his lap where his hand had returned to grip his cock, his palm lazily moving up and around his shaft, slowly over the glistening head.

He leaned forward to push himself higher against the back of the sofa, the sleeves of his white shirt slipping further off his shoulders, revealing the rounded contours of his deltoid muscles. He widened his thighs that had been almost clenched around you, and fixed you with a hungry stare, his jaw clenched.

"Not even close, darling," he rasped. He motioned his head for you to stand up and you did, straightening your short skirt and unsteadily rocking on your heels.

"Come closer to me," he continued and you obeyed, moving between his legs again, this time standing above him. He reached his free hand underneath your skirt and slipped his long fingers under the wet panel of your soaked panties, finding and grazing your swollen folds. His other hand gripped his girth tighter at the feel of you.

"Oh, you’re so fucking wet." His eyes flashed with hunger and he brought his hand back to the front of your skirt, roughly pushing it up so the sides of it hitched on your hip bones. He pulled your panties to the side and let out a groan as he looked longingly at your dripping pussy, your core rising and tightening at the sight of his insatiable admiration.

He brought his hand behind your ass and yanked you hard toward him.

"Please have a seat, love," he said, his grip pulling you even closer, your knees now bending at the edge of the sofa, his thighs closing together as you widened your own to lower yourself on his lap. "And help me by letting me feel that beautiful, wet cunt of yours all over my cock…"

There was no slow savoring of his touch as you tried to tease him by dragging your slit along his length, slipping his tip against your clit, hearing him draw in a sharp breath. He dug his fingers into the flesh at your hips and readied to angle his cock into you before you slid back down his length in the most obscene of lap dances.

He pressed his large thumbs into the soft skin next to your hip bones and pulled you up to the head.

"Fuck this, darling. Enough teasing," he caught you fast as you were just reaching the head once more and brought you down hard and fast on his cock, eliciting a rattled moan from his throat and a sharp cry from yours. 

He began to move your hips in tandem with his thrusts, controlling you, using your body for his pleasure. You rocked and scooped your hips against his, your skirt bunching high on your waist. 

Once you found your rhythm, grinding hard on his lap, his large palm moved to cup and squeeze your ass, the other brought round front as his thumb began to thrum your wet swollen bud, the pressure of your bodies crashing together forcing the pad of it hard up against you again and again, until you were walking a fine edge, ready to fall at his whim.

His open palm then slid all the way up your back to tangle in the waves of your hair, twisting the locks around his fingers, and pulling almost enough to hurt, arching your chest back, the buttons of your blouse gaping and pulling.

"You think all I wanted was your hot little mouth?" he growled, his teeth drawing sharp lines over your clavicle, "The entire time I was watching you, I was fucking you in every way. Your warm wet cunt, coming all over your gorgeous tits, pressed tight up into that pert little ass."

He continued rutting hard up into you, leaving you bouncing hard up and down on his cock. His thumb danced madly over your clit now, and with a particularly rough yank of your hair, right at the scalp, he thrust up into you, gritting his jaw. You clamped down on his cock as your toppled off the edge, groaning long and low. He met his end moments after, spilling into you as you wet down his trim curls with your own clear liquid.

He release the tight hold he had on you and you leaned forward to rest your sweaty brow against his, both of you taking a few minutes to savor the feeling.

He cleared his throat, “When’s your next interview?”

"I have Chris Evans at four," you muttered.

He lifted his arm to check his watch, “Time for a shower then? If you don’t mind me saying, love, you look like you’ve just been fucked senseless.”

"Yeah, I suppose that’s not professional"

"No, but it looks fucking hot on you," he tipped your chin to his and pressed his soft lips to your own, and with that he stood, taking you with him, and walked off to the loo.


End file.
